Laundry
by you'vegotthis
Summary: Sexy housework. Go figure. Rated T not M.


Laundry

Synopsis: Sexy housework. Go figure. Rated T not M.

Thanks to Deb for the beta.

* * *

"Are you actually complaining about trading sexual favors, Mr. Castle?"

And damn. There's that look she's giving him. That's one he knows. He _really_ knows.

Before he can respond she's sweeping by him, tease on the run, hair in a ponytail, leggings, old t-shirt. Cleaning day clothes; a bottle of Windex in one hand and a roll of paper towels in the other. He hadn't really thought through his offer to do her laundry when he showed up on her doorstep last night and she negotiated a little Saturday housecleaning in trade for a little Friday fun.

She definitely lived up to her end of the bargain.

"We need to get you a maid service," he yells after her. He turns back to his sorting duties, darks and lights. Whoa, bottom of the basket finds are worth it, even his fantasy life had no idea.

"Kate?" He follows her muffled response to find her cleaning her tub, her bottom a little too provocative when her unmentionables are dangling from his fingers. "What should I do with this?"

She turns her head, and he has to swallow back the fact that Kate is staring up at him over her own bent body, her legs spread, backside in the air, completely unaware of her position. "What?"

Black. Silk.

"Hand wash?" He raises an eyebrow and pointedly lets her see his eyes drift to her assets.

She rolls her eyes and straightens up to stand. "I'll hand wash them, thank you very much, just leave them in the basket."

"'k," he says, leaning back against the doorframe and waiting for her to return to the task at hand.

Instead, she tilts her head and widens her eyes, lips pursing.

"I'm going," his disappointment clear as his mouth quirks.

The next time he finds her, he can see that little band of skin between the top of her leggings and the bottom of the t-shirt she's wearing. Her lithe body stretched to dust the top shelf as she stands on a chair.

He forgets for a moment why he entered the room.

That's a lot of wiggling Beckett on display.

She catches him watching her, but keeps focused on her task as she speaks, "Seriously, I thought your creepy staring days were over."

"May never be," he says it like it's a fact, like he's relaying the weather.

She stops what she's doing and regards him with a tender smile and he suddenly remembers why he went looking for her.

"When did you wear this?" He's holding up his favorite black nighty.

"Oh, I don't know," she says, disinterested, "I do sometimes sleep without you, you know?"

"In _this_?"

"Yes, in that," she huffs, returning to her task.

"That is so hot," and then he sobers, "wish you wouldn't."

Her head snaps up and she reprimands him, "Are you finished with the laundry yet?"

* * *

She's already finished cleaning the bathroom, office and living room before she realizes he's still sorting laundry.

Still.

She doesn't have that much laundry.

Kate finds him sitting on the floor of her bedroom surrounded by her clothes.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorting?"

"Darks and lights, Castle, how hard can it be?" She kneels down to combine the fifteen piles he has into the three that she needs. "Come on, I thought you were going to help me."

"Hey," he complains, grabbing her hands and pulling her into an awkward crouch, until she is sitting on her feet by his side, her hands in his, "you just need to know my system."

"What system?" She eyes him suspiciously.

"This pile," he indicates with his chin, "is dark stuff you wear to work that I like seeing you in. Those dark jeans, love them, hug your assets."

She smirks at him, even as he moves a hand to pat her awkwardly on the rear.

"Oh yeah? And how does this help get these clothes washed?"

"Patience, Beckett, patience. This pile," he indicates with the hand not holding hers, "is for light colored stuff I like to see you wear at work. Like your white button-downs, right? I can see the outline of your bra."

"Tsk, Castle. If you can see it so can everyone else, I-" but he cuts her off.

"I like it. Especially if it's a memory bra."

"A what now?" Her brows furrow.

"A memory bra, you know, one I have a memory with you in. Like when you wear one I took off you the night before," he leans in a bit and like a magnet, her lips are drawn to his.

"I see," she says against his mouth. Just as she's ready to go deeper he's pulling away.

"We will never get the laundry done this way," he scolds.

A look of utter disbelief crosses her face.

"Now, this pile," he says letting go of her and pulling the little pile closer, "is stuff I don't like."

"Oh?"

"These," he's indicating several turtle necks, "reveal nothing. Have to stop kissing you to get them off. No room for imagination. Bad."

"I'm so sorry," Kate says, smiling at him as she shakes her head.

"And these," he's holding up a pair of socks, "you know I'm not a foot-man, there is just nothing sexy about grey socks. And plus, I have an issue with you using them during strip poker, too many rounds I have to win. That's a lot of unnecessary pressure on the relationship, you know?"

"Yes," she nods, "socks, a lot of pressure, got it."

"Now this stack," he says, turning to lift an eyebrow at her, "has some of my favorite things, at work or elsewhere."

Kate can see most of the mound is her lingerie.

She slides an arm around his shoulders and turns enough to nip her cheek.

"Remember how you totally caught me checking out your rear when you wore this?" He's holding up her purple Burberry plaid shirt by its shoulders.

She smirks and tells him, "Wore it once a week for a while after that."

"I noticed," he leans in again, catching the side of her mouth in a sloppy try. Her hands go to his hair and the back of his head as she maneuvers him where she wants him. A slow, lazy kiss reminds them both how far they've come. Her fingers linger in his hair.

"Don't blame me when you are the one holding up the laundry," he says nudging his nose against hers.

"Ha," she smiles and kisses him again, her eyes closing as he grabs her chin and works his mouth over hers.

"Oh my god, and these!" Distracted, he breaks their kiss to hold up a pair of black pants.

She shoots him an annoyed look followed by a quizzical one.

"You wore these that night."

"What night?"

He swings his view from the pants to her face and opens his eyes wide. "_That_ night, Kate. Our first night."

She laughs at him. Her silly, sentimental boy-man.

"Castle, are you seriously getting romantic over a pair of pants?"

"Absolutely not, I'm sentimental over your lack of pants," he stands and pulls on her arms, "now, where are your quarters? This is going to cost you."

She grabs at the front of his shirt, "I hate to ruin your hard work, but I am re-sorting these," she raises an eyebrow, "and then I'm never again letting you trade your laundry skills for what we did last night."

"Fine," he says, "but if you let me take care of the," he pauses and looks her up and down, "_filthy_ clothes you have on now, it will make things easier."

"Easier for whom?"

He pulls her in, cinching her closer to his body, "Your clothes are dirty. All that cleaning and scrubbing, it makes you hot and dirty, and sweaty. And hot."

"You said that already."

"Kate Beckett, you are once again questioning my motives, which I assure you are only to help _you_."

"Uh-huh." She can feel his hands rubbing her back.

"And besides, if we do this now, then I'll be available later to help you some more."

She quirks a brow.

"I feel certain I have the skills to assist you with your other tasks," he bends to kiss the space behind her ear, burying himself in the crook of her neck.

"Not sure how I thought this would go well, considering how you help me with the Precinct paperwork," she says more to herself than to him.

And then his hand is on her neck holding her as she closes her eyes and arches into his sensual touch. Neither one of them are aware of which of his stacks her clothes find, when they land on the floor.

* * *

Elisa, his housekeeper, is on her doorstep first thing Monday morning, laundry soap in hand and a quizzical expression, "Mr. Castle says to tell you that I'm here to complete his part of the deal and that he'd like to extend the terms."

* * *

A/N: because I sensed that you'd much rather read about Castle and Beckett doing laundry than do your own.


End file.
